


What Hurts The Most

by bughead2017



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bughead2017/pseuds/bughead2017
Summary: She couldn't save him.





	What Hurts The Most

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Rascal Flatts song "What Hurts the Most".

Sniffles fell from Betty’s mouth as she violently shoved clothes into her duffle bag, as her mother sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands and her father leaned against the wall, hands in his dress pants pockets and a somber look across his face.

Betty’s quick movements halted as she stared at the now empty dresser drawer, the salty tears from her chin dripping onto the wood. Her face shriveled up and the crease between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows became prominent as she mumbled the same words over and over again.

"It’s not true,”

More sobs followed, each one more gut-wrenching than the last, until they stopped and her sadness turned to rage once more at the sight of her father in the reflection of the mirror. She inhaled through her clenched teeth and in a swift motion, she stood in front of him, arms thrashing onto his chest and harsh words spitting from her lips.

“You did this! You made him leave! I hate you!”

He tried to grab her arms in a desperate attempt calm her, but her movements were unceasing. Hit after hit, she still couldn’t stop. Her heart was heavy and broken and he was to blame. _He made him leave._

“Say it!” Betty shrieked, “Say you hate him!”

Her mother shook like a leaf as she watched her youngest daughter grow more hysterical by the second. Her father encapsulated her as Betty’s adrenaline began to give way, her legs turning into jello and bringing them both crashing to the floor. She continued to jab his chests with her fists, but she gave up, no more energy left in her to fight, and her fists enveloped around the fabric of his sweater as he rocked her back and forth, shushing her uncontrollable tears.

* * *

Betty didn’t sleep anymore, not with the memories flooding her brain. The two-in-the-morning motorcycle rides, dates at Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe after a long day of school, solving the newest mystery that overshadowed the town. She yearned for just another second with him.

She remembered every little detail. His smell of bike grease and the cologne she bought him for Christmas, the texture of his unruly raven hair, the warmth of his leather-clad body, the scruffy voice that whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his breath on her neck, his hands on her skin.

The grief was crushing her like a vice.

_“What’s wrong, Betts?” Jughead whispered into her hair. Betty listened to the thumping in his chest, the sound washing away all her worries._

_It was another night of the two young people in love sneaking off to a place where they won’t be disturbed, not by their parents watching their every move or another clue in the newest mystery. Just a boy and his queen, skin to skin, memorizing every inch of each other’s bodies._

_Jughead grazed the tips of his fingers up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her tension, “Is it your mom?”_

_Betty sighed deeply and shook her head, “Not this time,”_

_Jughead shifted her so their eyes met and she was resting her chin on top of his chest. His thumb swept across her rosy cheek, his other fingers brushing strands of hair behind her ear, “Tell me what’s on your mind?”_

_Betty’s eyes watched his for a second before shifting to a place on the wall, even though her thoughts were somewhere else, “Do you ever think about the future?”_

_Her hazel orbs found his green ones once more, “What do you see?”_

_Jughead’s eyebrows lifted for a second, the questions catching him off guard. The corners of his lips rose into the smirk Betty was so fond of, “What do you see?”_

_“I’m serious,”_

_The smirk fell from his mouth and it was replaced by a single word._

_“You,”_

* * *

_“You need to leave, Mr. Jones,” Hal Cooper snarled, “Right now,”_

_The moment the investigative duo stepped into the house, they were ambushed by her parents, who both wore very different looks on their faces. Alice stood behind her husband with apologetic eyes, and Hal wore a face that neither teenager could read._

_Betty moved in front of Jughead protectively and crossed her arms over her chest, “And why does he need to do that?”_

_Hal’s nostrils flared and her rolled his eyes at his daughter who’s personality mirrored his own - the same defiance he gave his own parents at her age._

_“I’m tired of never seeing my own daughter because she’s out getting involved in stuff that isn’t her business with her corruptive boyfriend who takes her on these little adventures,”_

_The resistant teenager opened her mouth to speak and give her father a piece of her mind, but a hand on her shoulder impeded her words, “It’s okay, Betts. I have to help my dad with some stuff anyway,”_

_Betty glared at her father as she turned to face Jughead. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his neck._

_“I’m sorry,” She whispered, but her shushed her quietly, “I’ll call you tonight,”_

* * *

School was hard, too.

Betty showed up late, usually wearing one of Jughead’s t-shirts and her hair in a disheveled bun on top of her head, dried tear stains on her cheeks and heavy bags under her barren eyes.

Her teachers didn’t even have a chance to speak before she was dashing from the room, sobs exploding from her lips. Just a glance to her left, an empty desk and chair which once held a damaged, loner outsider from the wrong side of the tracks.

It also once held the boy she loved with every ounce of her being.

* * *

_She waved goodbye as he boarded his bike and snapped the helmet buckle under his chin, the engine roaring beneath him. He gripped the handlebars and mouthed an ‘I love you’ before zooming off to his destination._

_“Look, Betty, I’m sor-,” Hal began, but Betty’s hand shot out in front of his face, “Save it. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say unless it’s an apology to Jughead,”_

_And with that she was gone, up the stairs in a fit of rage to a bed that was lonely without Jughead._

* * *

It was a vicious cycle. A memory invades her thoughts, then she begins to cry, which leads to throwing up.

But the stinging in her throat wasn’t nearly as painful as the emptiness in her heart.

She leaned against the tub as she tried to catch her breath from retching into the toilet, Alice sitting quietly outside the bathroom door, wishing she could do anything to take away the pain. Betty drew her knees to her chest and wept quietly, her throat scorched from the vomiting.

She shouldn’t have let him leave. She should’ve gotten on that bike, too. She should’ve gone after him.

So, she did.

Alice watched her distraught daughter flee from the bathroom and run after something that wasn’t there. She ran her hands through her disheveled hair that held more locks of gray than ever before and rose from the floor and closed the front door behind Betty, not having the heart to stop her from chasing the wind.

Betty’s legs tingled and her cheeks was chapped from the frigid air, but she kept running. She had to get to him, she had to see him, talk to him. Even if for just a moment.

And then, she saw it.

She fell to the ground in front of it as her legs gave out, her arms crossed over her chest and her tears unceasing. A little white cross on the side of the road with his name etched into the wood.

_Jughead Jones_

_Son, brother, friend, true love._

_2001-2018_

Her chin trembled uncontrollably as she reached out her hand to touch the words.

“I saw you,”

* * *

It was pitch black outside when she arrived home, the only light coming from the porch light above the front door. It was dark inside, too, but a lamp in the living room illuminated the room, her mother always leaving it on for her when she stayed out late. She clicked the door shut behind her and trudged up the stairs, her arms wrapped around her.

She made it to her room and gripped the door handle, but she couldn’t force herself to turn it. The were too many memories behind that door, so she’d been sleeping on the couch.

“Betty?”

Betty turned on her heels to face her mother as the oldest Cooper woman pulled her into an embrace. Alice ran her hands up and down Betty’s back and kissed her cheek before pulling away. She grabbed Betty’s hand and opened the bedroom door, “C’mon,” Alice spoke softly, “I’ll tuck you in,”

Betty kept her eyes trained on her feet as Alice pulled her through the doorway. She pulled back the covers and Betty sat down on the edge, as if the bed were full of snakes waiting to strike.

Alice crouched down in front of her, untying her converse and slipping them from her feet. She walked to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pajama pants and Betty’s favorite t-shirt, worn-out and gray with a faded black ‘S’ in the center.

“Mom,” Betty whispered, “I can’t wear that,”

Alice smiled sadly and sat next to her, placing the pj’s in her lap, “I know you’re hurting, baby, and I know you’re avoiding everything that reminds you of him, but that’s no way to live. He wants you to be happy, and that I know for a fact. You’ll see him again one day,”

Betty stared at the shirt in her hands with watery eyes. She took off the shirt she was wearing and slipped the clean one over her head, inhaling the scent as it rubbed across her face. As the oversized shirt fell against her slender body, she clutched the fabric in her hands and pulled it up to her nose once more.

One night, he slept over when her parents were out of town. He forgot the shirt when he left the next morning, but he never got it back. The only time it left the top drawer of her dresser was when she missed him.

Betty put the pajama pants on and threw her dirty clothes in the hamper, sliding her legs under the covers. Alice pulled the blankets up to her chin and flipped the switch on her bedside table lamp, the baby angel night-light illuminating the room. As her mother kissed her forehead and whispered a goodnight, Betty reached for her hand.

“Do you think he’s okay?”

Alice brushed Betty’s hair from her face, replying with a simple answer.

“I do. He’s in a place where there’s no worry and no pain and no sadness. He’s at peace,”

Betty nodded and smiled a real smile for the first time since Jughead died, a smile of content knowing that he’s safe, wherever he may be. She closed her heavy eyes as Alice crossed the room, closing the door behind her.

For the first time since the worst night of her life, she slept. No insomnia, no nightmares. Just sleep.

* * *

“Betty,”

Betty groaned as she was shaken awake. Her hazel eyes fluttered open, but squeezed shut abruptly as the sun’s rays blinded her.

“Wake up, baby,”

The voice sounded familiar, like something she heard in a dream. It was gruff and laced with fatigue, as if it held the weight of the world. She rolled onto her side, facing the voice, and rubbed her tired eyes with the back of her hands.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,”

The second she opened them, her eyes connected with the most beautiful emerald orbs she’d ever seen. The same eyes she wanted to spend the rest of her life staring into.

“Jughead?” Betty whispered as her eyes began to water.

No, this wasn’t real. He’s not real. She was dreaming. He’s dead and she’s dreaming.

He wiped his thumb across her cheek as a tear slipped down, “Why are you crying, baby?”

She touched the hand that rested on her face and she inhaled a sharp breath. This couldn’t be real. He wasn’t really there in front of her.

“Betts,” he spoke softly, “Are you okay?”

Her chin began to tremble, more tears making their way down her face. How was he here right now? The hand that wasn’t resting on her face brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, Betty’s eyelashes drenched in her tears.

“How are you here right now?” Betty whispered with a sob. He looked confused, as if he had never left.

“Baby, what are you talking about?” Jughead questioned, “I’ve been here the whole time. I slept over last night, remember?”

Then, it hit her. It was a nightmare. Jughead was right in front of her, alive and healthy.

The most heartbreaking cry escaped her lips as she threw her arms around Jughead’s neck. He was startled, but quickly embraced her as she wept.

“You had a bad dream, didn’t you?” Jughead heard his answer in her wailing, “I’m okay, baby. I’m right here,”

“You left without saying goodbye and I couldn’t save you,”

Jughead shushed her, his fingers brushing through her tangled hair, “I will never say goodbye to you, Betty Cooper.”


End file.
